Dandelions
by Kaoru Gal
Summary: Between losing his job, getting stuck as a 16-year-old boy's hired friend, getting an irritating roommate who he may be developing a crush on, things aren't easy for Arthur. And things only get harder when said 16-year-old boy falls for him. FrUK USUK AU
1. Chapter 1

Dandelions

Summary: Between losing his job, getting stuck as a 16-year-old boy's hired friend, getting an irritating new roommate who he may or may not be developing a crush on, and having his best friend sleep on his kitchen floor every other night, things aren't easy for Arthur Kirkland. And things only get harder when said 16-year-old boy falls for him.

* * *

Arthur Kirkland realized halfway through his boss' rant that he was being fired. He also realized a few seconds after that he didn't really care. That was a bit concerning, considering how this had been his job for the last four years. His thick eyebrows came and knotted together as he stared hard at his employer's red, swelled up face, trying to figure out why he wasn't more upset, or at least surprised.

Sure, it hadn't been a _great _job. In fact, it had been downright embarrassing and degrading at times. No one had much respect for waiters, after all. But still, it was better then flipping slabs of meat downtown at the local Burger King. And due to the poor economy at the moment, finding another job would be a right pain in the ass.

Arthur frowned. This should be upsetting news and yet all he could manage to feel at the moment was a vague disgust for the streak of dirt smeared across his employer's nose. Perhaps he was simply in shock and the normal feelings of disappointment and frustration would set in later that day when he was preparing supper for himself.

His boss finally appeared to have stopped yelling and was staring at Arthur with a strange expression. "You… do understand why I'm firing you, don't you?" he asked slowly, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and smearing the bit of dirt.

Arthur blinked out of his stupor then quickly nodded, plastering on a stiff smile. "Losing my temper with a customer, being sarcastic on more than one occasion…" Arthur counted the reasons off on his fingers then rolled his eyes. "Although half of those times they didn't even realize I was being sarcastic, the idiots."

His employer gave him a sharp look before sighing and seeming to sag down in his office chair. "I don't think this is the job for you."

Arthur silently agreed.

"I'm sure you'll find a new job that… suits you better." They both exchanged fake, tight smiles and stood up, shaking hands stiffly.

"Right…" Arthur heard himself mutter, suddenly feeling a lot more tired. "Right. So…"

* * *

"… What now?" Arthur found himself asking his beer later that night at a crowded, smoky bar. He wrapped his fingers around the thick glass and bowed his head, regarding the drink with an irritable expression. "Should I just go back to England?" he continued miserably, sloshing the liquid in its glass as if trying to shake an answer out of it.

"Dude, you are _wasted_," a voice snickered by his ear, making Arthur nearly drop and spill his drink.

After he recovered he turned in his stool and scowled at the tall, pale man standing beside him, leaning against the bar. "Talking to inanimate objects? Yeah, _wasted_."

"Shove off, Gil," Arthur grumbled, turning his attention back to the drink he was nursing. He frowned when he heard his friend sigh and slip into the seat next to him. "I _said_-"

"I don't really care, you know?" Gilbert brushed him off easily, grabbing then beer from him and lifting it to his lips before Arthur could protest.

Gloomily, Arthur watched the liquid slowly disappear into his friend's mouth. "I paid for that," he muttered petulantly.

Gilbert ignored him, slapping the now empty glass down on the counter and smacking his lips loudly. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before cocking his head to eye Arthur silently for a moment, fingers sweeping through his ashy hair. "So I hear you got booted out from that crap ass job of yours," he said brightly, a grin stretching his lips.

"You're just a horrible person," Arthur replied with a blank look before he frowned. "How do you know about that?"

"A little birdie told me." He grinned and crossed his arms over his hest, propping his feet up on the counter, gaining a dirty look from the bartender. He twitched his boots, left to right then right to left, narrow eyes studying Arthur critically. "So… how are ya gonna get rent for that shacky little apartment of yours?"

Arthur groaned. "Are you _trying _to make me feel worse?"

Gilbert shrugged and flicked his finger at a bit of dirt marring his black boot. "Maybe." He paused, listening to the loud laughter of a group of men on the other end of the bar. "Look, Artie, just get a part time, sucky job until you can land a _real _one." He rolled his shoulders and arched an eyebrow. "Easy."

"And unrealistic," Arthur added. He smacked Gilbert's feet off the counter and lifted his hand for another beer. "A part time sucky job isn't going to get me enough money for rent."

"That, my friend, is why you need a room mate." Gilbert slapped his shoulder and grinned at the glare Arthur shot him. "It'll be good for you and your lonely little self."

"You're not moving in."

Gilbert snickered and rolled his red eyes, clicking his tongue as he watched the bartender slide another glass towards them. "Please. The _awesome _me live in that shit house?" He snorted and shook his head. "Put up an ad. No wait…" he broke off then flashed a grin, the type of grin that Arthur had learned over the years to be wary of. "Because I'm such an awesome friend, I'll give you a hand here. I have an old buddy that needs a new place."

"Is he an alcoholic?"

"What? No, of course not. Not really. No more than you are," Gilbert added. "He's a good guy I swear." When Arthur didn't look convinced Gilbert threw his arms up in the air and sighed loudly. "He's a freaking good cook, isn't that enough? You're practically half dead from the shit you make everyday so this is a plus for you."

"There's nothing wrong with my cooking!" Arthur snapped, grabbing the beer and glaring at him over the rim. "Besides… you'll probably fix me up with some sort of mental-"

"Oh _come on_!"

"-nut case fre-"

"What if I got you a job too?" Gilbert grabbed his drink away, raising his voice.

Arthur broke off from his rant and frowned at him, green eyes narrowing a fraction. "A job?" he repeated incredulously.

"Yeah, a part time sorta job. It's really easy and it pays pretty nice for that kinda thing. How 'bout it?" Gilbert leaned back and tilted his head, his wide grin cutting through the dim lighting of the bar.

Normally, Arthur wouldn't ever agree to any sort of deal with Gilbert. Yes, they were friends, and that was exactly why Arthur knew better. But the several beers he had had spun a pretty daze over his thoughts and he found himself nodding slowly and reaching out a hand. "Yeah, yeah okay. Deal."

And for the second time that day Arthur shook hands.

* * *

Ever morning Arthur Kirkland would wake up sharp and early, wipe the sleep from his eyes and trudge his way to the bathroom. He would scowl at his reflection in the mirror over the sink then splash his face with water and brush his teeth, not bothering to do anything with his hair (it was impossible to manage).

Once that was done he would trudge back out into the hallway to the kitchen so he could make himself a cup of tea and eat his cereal while he watched the news and tut over the current events.

Only, that didn't happen this morning.

Arthur's normal routine was perfect (excluding the slight hangover) until he exited the bathroom to make his way to the kitchen. He stopped, dark eyebrows furrowing as he squinted at the man in the narrow hallway a few feet from him. The throbbing in the side of his head was making it hard to think properly and it took him a good long minute to process that there was a stranger in his apartment obstructing his pathway to the kitchen.

"Who the bloody fuck are you?" Arthur was never, especially with a hangover, a good morning person.

The stranger frowned at his tone and glanced over his shoulder before taking a small step forward and brushing his blonde, shoulder length hair back. "Bit rude, aren't you?" the man remarked, arching a thin eyebrow. "Gilbert didn't tell me you would be British."

Arthur opened his mouth to shoot back a snarky reply when Gilbert crashed into the hall from the kitchen, a Subway bag swinging in his hand. "Oh so you've met!"

"Who the hell is this guy?" Arthur demanded, gesturing towards the stranger while shooting him a scowl.

"Uh, your new roomie, remember?"

Arthur stared blankly at Gilbert and squinted his eyes, wondering if he had somehow heard that wrong. He glanced from Gilbert's raised eyebrows to the strange man who was watching him with bemused eyes and noticed for the first time the bags at the man's feet. "Wait… wait, what?"

Gilbert frowned at him then shrugged and shook his head as he strode forward and draped an arm over the man's shoulders. "Right. Ignore him; his memory has been failing him in his old age. Now your room would be down here…"

Arthur gaped as the two scooted past him and headed towards the guest room, the guest room that Arthur had turned into his makeshift sewing room.

"Wait! Just- I don't even know this guy's name! And you never-"

"Francis," the man said simply, cutting off Arthur's prepared rant. He smiled suddenly and swooped forward to grasp Arthur's hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the knuckles.

Arthur made a choked sound in the back of his throat (and it most definitely was not a squeak) and snapped his hand back quickly, shooting Gilbert a look that read murder.

The man, Francis, pulled back and laughed softly, exchanging a look with Gilbert. "I am sure we will get to know each other, _oui_, Arthur?"

The first thought that cut through the ache in his head was that there was something indefinably creepy about the way Francis said his name. The second thought that came a few seconds after was that not only was this guy annoyingly attractive, but he was also _French_. Fantastic.

"I don't like you," Arthur said blankly.

Gilbert scowled and quickly grabbed him by the elbow, motioning Francis to go on ahead to the room as he pulled Arthur aside. "Look," he hissed. "We made a _deal_ last night. You want that job, right? Just help me out, alright? If Francis has to stay one more night with me my girlfriend will throw a freakin' _fit."_

"So you dump him on me."

Gilbert grinned then rolled his shoulders. "He'll split the rent with you. I dunno why you're getting your panties in such a twist about this."

Arthur glared then glanced back to see Francis standing awkwardly outside the doorway of the guest room, bags slung over his shoulder. "Fine… fine. But you never even told me what the job is."

Gilbert brightened and flashed his friend a quick thumbs up before clapping Arthur roughly on the shoulder. "It's sort of like… like babysitting, you know?"

"Babysitting?" Arthur repeated dubiously. "What the hell kinda job-"

Gilbert interrupted him impatiently as he fished around in his Subway bag, crinkling the plastic loudly. "The parents are rich. Like fucking, filthy rich." He rubbed his thumb and middle finger together as emphasis. "Besides… it's not _exactly _like babysitting. It's… special."

And Arthur, in a momentary lapse of common sense, didn't bother asking Gilbert to specify what "special" entailed.

* * *

A/N: Pleeease guys, don't ask me about my other fanfics. I'm sorry I haven't updated them in months. I've just moved and I've been jumping into a lot of different fandoms lately so I haven't had the inspiration. I haven't given up hope on my other fics so just be patiant with me. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

Dandelions

Summary: Between losing his job, getting stuck as a 16-year-old boy's hired friend, getting an irritating new roommate who he may or may not be developing a crush on, and having his best friend sleep on his kitchen floor every other night, things aren't easy for Arthur Kirkland. And things only get harder when said 16-year-old boy falls for him.

Warnings: none really for this chapter

* * *

Chapter 2

"Okay, so repeat back to me what I just said."

Francis frowned as he stared into the fridge, blue eyes sweeping critically over the expired milk and Arthur's chicken rice leftovers from a few nights ago. He looked up and arched an eyebrow. "Don't touch your things. Don't go into your room. Don't mess up your sewing." His lips quirked up into a small smirk as he closed the fridge and straightened. "Did I miss anything?"

"And don't invite any weird people over," Arthur reminded him sharply.

Francis waved a hand at him as he pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and slid in, crossing his legs at the ankles and tilting his head as he watched Arthur fuss with his shirt. "I do believe you are the only person I know who actually wears sweater vests," he mused.

Arthur scowled and pulled self-consciously at his sleeves. "There's nothing _wrong _with sweater vests," he sniffed, grabbing his keys and wallet. "Besides, I have to make a good impression if I want them to hire me." He pocketed his wallet then looked around the kitchen, uneasy about leaving Francis alone in his apartment.

_Our _apartment now, he thought bitterly to himself.

"Well, I'm off. Don't do anything _terribly _stupid," Arthur grumped, making his way to the door.

"I'll try," Francis hummed cheerfully, waving his hand and smiling.

With a feeling of dread prickling at him, Arthur opened the door and left.

* * *

Gilbert had left him with the address of the house scrawled out in sharpie on the back of a receipt.

"Filthy rich… I see what he meant," Arthur mumbled to himself, driving slowly through the neighborhood, looking for the street name Gilbert had written down.

It was a bit frightening, actually, how _perfect _each house seemed to be. The spacious lawns were all an impossibly bright shade of green and neatly trimmed with a few flowering bushes or trees on the side. Shiny cars that looked like they had just been bought sat in the wide driveways in the shadows of the garages and towering houses. The deeper he went into the neighborhood the grander the houses seemed to get.

"This better be real…" Arthur muttered, glancing again at the slip of paper, already imagining how this might turn out to be some sort of joke Gilbert came up with while he was drunk. Maybe there was no family who needed a babysitter here. Maybe this wasn't even a real address. God, he was going to _kill _Gilbert-

But there it was.

Arthur slowed the car and peered out the window, inspecting the curvy numbers stamped over the front door and comparing them with the numbers Gilbert had written down. He was on the right street… and the numbers matched…

After triple checking Arthur pulled into the circular driveway, feeling a bit awkward parking his station wagon next to a BMW. He got out of his car, locked it, and looked up at the tall house, shading his eyes and feeling his throat go dry. The house, no _mansion_, was a great white building with arched windows and balconies and huge double doors looming at the front.

I bet the kid is spoiled rotten, Arthur thought as he made his way slowly up to the great pair of doors. The parents are probably really fussy too…

He sighed heavily, closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, before lifting his hand and pressing the doorbell.

Arthur heard its chime echo from beyond the doors and he fidgeted again with his top, smoothing out the wrinkles in his sweater and running a hand nervously through his choppy hair.

He hastily dropped his hand when one of the doors clacked open. "H-hullo! I'm er… is Mrs. Jones home?" His voice faltered when the door opened wider to reveal a tall boy who looked to be in his teens. His suspicions that this was the wrong house grew.

The boy blinked at him with wide, violet eyes and cocked his head to the side, wavy blond hair falling into his face. "Um… she's at work… if you're selling something then…" He spoke so quietly that it took Arthur a moment to realize what he had said.

"Oh nonono! See, um…. I'm here for the er… babysitting… Gilbert Weillschmidt told me…" Arthur trailed off, unsure. Was this kid an older brother or something? Or maybe they had already gotten a babysitter and he was too late. But the boy's eyes brightened at the mention of Gilbert and he opened the door all the way, stepping aside and smiling brightly.

"Oh! Oh, hi! You must be um… Arthur Kirkland, right? He told me about you." The boy held out a hand and Arthur shook it slowly. "I'm Matthew, um, Alfred's cousin."

"Alfred?" Arthur repeated questioningly.

Matthew stared at him, eyebrows drawing together before he smiled again uncertainly. "Yeah… you know, the one you're 'babysitting'?" He chuckled a little under his breath and shook his head, leading Arthur inside and shutting the door behind him. "Although, I wouldn't call it that around him, eh? He'd throw a fit."

"Oh… right," Arthur said distractedly as he looked around the foyer with wide eyes. "So how old is Alfred?"

Matthew shot him another one of those confused looks, frowning for a moment. "Sixteen… just a year older than me." He turned around, missing Arthur's dumbstruck look.

"Wait… you mean six right?" Arthur asked weakly, trailing after Matthew to the staircase.

Matthew turned back around, scratching the back of his neck. "Did um… didn't Gilbert tell you anything?"

_That asshole. _"No."

Matthew looked away, ruffling a hand through his hair and twisting a finger around the odd curl that stuck up. "Oh well…"

"Is this the guy?" a loud voice suddenly boomed.

Matthew and Arthur looked up and Arthur felt the dread that had been itching at him earlier crawl up the back of his neck.

The boy that stood at the top of the staircase was _defiantly _not the snot nosed brat Arthur had been imagining. Tall and broad shouldered, the boy sent the two at the bottom of the stairs a confident grin, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's Alfred," Matthew introduced.

Arthur felt faint.

* * *

"What do you think of him?" Gilbert asked slowly, turning the volume down on the TV as he glanced over his shoulder at Francis.

The blond was browsing through the bookcase, studying a few titles before he sighed and turned towards Gilbert, hands deep in his pockets. "Is he always so grumpy?"

Gilbert let out a sharp bark of laughter and shrugged. "Most of the time. You'll get used to it." He paused, eyes drifting to the show he was watching. "But he has his good moments, you know? Just bring up the subject of mythical creatures and you'll see what I mean."

Francis was silent for a moment before he strode over to the couch Gilbert was lounging in, leaning against the back of it and propping his chin up in his hand. "I'll remember that."

Gilbert chuckled and turned around in his seat, leaving Francis to ponder over that.

Francis, honestly, wasn't sure what he thought of his new roommate. His first impression hadn't been a very good one, considering how bluntly Arthur had declared his dislike for him five minutes into their meeting. Arthur was irritable, sarcastic, and had far too many rules for Francis' liking.

But there were a few things Francis had found that hinted at a softer side of the Briton.

When he had moved his things into the second bedroom Francis had stumbled upon many of Arthur's embroideries. And, while it _was _funny imagining a man like Arthur doing something like sewing, it was also somehow charming. He had found neat little stacks of handkerchiefs with flowers and curvy initials sewn into the corners. Running his fingertips over the small, careful stitches, Francis couldn't help but smile a little.

"He's interesting," Francis mused aloud.

Gilbert glanced at him; his eyebrows arched, but didn't say anything.

* * *

Joh: Thanks yous to **scottpilgrimschick** (Prussia is so much love to write) **thoughtless dreamer **(bawww I looove you) **TheOrangeTreeCat** (I'll def be keeping up with this story, it's my baby right now) **Nerica **(Aw thanks so much! I hope you'll like this chapter) **Quaxicoffelees **(I strive for fabulous, thank you xD) **Derdimant **(oh wow! thanks so much! It's good to hear that I'm keeping things at a good pace. That was a lovely review and it made my day~) **CreativeInjustice **(Gilbert does have that sort of effect, doesn't he?)

Thank you guys for the reviews! It means a lot to me!


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